Taste Me, Le retour à la vie

I was a hard man. The name I used was Michael, but it may have been Ebenezer just as easily. My attack up the corporate ladder had left a long string of bodies and broken individuals in its wake.

I was driven by power, money, and position. There was pleasure for me in the pain and suffering I caused others. When the mirror gave its reflection, the suit was tailored, the hair neatly groomed, and all aspects of my appearance spoke power. Every thought was calculated for the next conquest. Women were a toy, something for my pleasure. When I was through with them, something to be discarded along with the others in my life. I was evil in human form.

There developed a crack in my façade. As time passed, the joy of conquest began to fade. The confident smile appeared less often. The cold calculation was replaced by hesitancy. Much as Scrooge, the ghosts of my past came to haunt my nights with an endless parade of faces.

The people I had battered and hurt with my lust for power. The corporate power base, of course, noticed my lack of zeal. My rise to power abruptly ended. I was left with a monstrous pile of accumulated processions. None of which now served a useful purpose. I spent many days and sleepless nights looking at my life. It was an ugly, horrible, and disgusting picture. Dorian Gray would have been handsome by comparison.

The day and nights became weeks. It became clear that I must do something drastic with my life, or my soul would be lost. I gave away everything, to try and in some form make amends for those I had hurt. Some were puzzled, yet grateful. Others were gladdened my fall. It was difficult to argue their point of view. All that was left was a backpack now with a few items of clothing. I began my search to return to life.

I worked my way across the land performing odd jobs. At times, helping with the farm or garden. lending a hand to those who needed it. I asked nothing in return but accepted whatever was offered to me with a grateful, and now, blooming heart. I met so many people who had little to show for the life they had lived. They were happy with their life. There were friends, family, and a plethora of loved ones. They cared for one another for who they were, not what they had or the world success they had achieved. I began to see, how badly I had used the life I was given. I resolved to a better and important thing with what I had left.

Many months later, I was at a mountain retreat in Japan. I had travelled much, seen much, and was slowly learning what it was to be a true human once more. The retreat was Zen Buddhism and there were those who came as I did, to find peace.

One of the practices there was the learning and playing of the Shakuhachi, the Japanese bamboo flute. I listened and watched as those around me played. It was a quiet and soothing sound. As I listened, the mind began to clear and float. I was grateful. One of the monks had noticed my attraction to music and I was gifted a Shakuhachi. It was a simple instrument of fired bamboo, about twenty-eight inches in length. It became a cherished item.

I began to play, and I was terrible. The sound was weak, and I did not know how to use my breath correctly. The Monks were truly kind and gave me gentle instruction. They were always kind, always helpful and uplifting. In return for my tenure at the retreat, I used many of the skills I had learned in my travels. The time was spent with farming, gardening, and keeping the retreat in repair. The monks had asked to learn English and I was happy to do it. The days were spent in quiet work, teaching, meditation and playing my flute. I had learned to be calm. Ghosts no longer haunted my nights. I no longer looked at the time or the day, as it was all the same for me now. Peace at last.

There was a new arrival at the retreat one day. At this point in time, I had been the only "westerner" in the compound. The arrival was a woman. I am not certain of her age, and it did not matter. The things I did notice, she had the same gaunt look on her face as I had. The earlier life she had lived had taken its toll. And like me, she was searching.

I introduced myself to her. Her name was Lisette. She was from the southern part of France but had moved to the city. Much as I had done, she moved her way up the ladder. The consequences had been pronounced. Lisette stayed at the retreat and began her return to life. She would wander about the gardens and fields or sit quietly in some remote part of the retreat. I had great empathy for her. I knew what she was experiencing. We would talk occasionally in English. My French was limited.

Someday, she would teach me French as I taught the monks English. Many weeks passed and the color began to return to Lisette's face. The lines that had formed there began to soften. At some point, she was also gifted a Shakuhachi. Her journey began as mine had.

The retreat gardens were a thing of beauty. They were well kept, and the profusion of flowers was truly magnificent. One of my favorites was Jasmine. I loved the scent. I would at times see Lisette in the garden. She was also attracted to Jasmine. We would walk through the gardens and talk. Sometimes of our past lives and at other times about the now. Of what we had learned or how we were feeling compared to the old way of life. The weeks progressed and we spent more time together. I found I wanted to seek her out, but did not wish to force my way into her life. Let her be.

I was in the garden one day, stationed by the Jasmine. My flute in hand, eyes closed and playing in the low range of the instrument. I had paused to breathe when my playing was answered by another. It was Lisette, she sat near me, and I had not heard her approach. The soft dulcet tones she played told me she had improved in her playing. She smiled at the end of her phrase. I answered with one of my own. We traded back and forth for some time. Each playing off what the other had done.

The monks that wandered in and out of the garden would stop to listen to our interplay, and nod with smiling approval. When we had free time, the garden was our haunt. The smell of Jasmine, the flutes, and the presence of Lisette. We played often, but always trading phrases. The monks continued to listen with interest as our songs began to escalate to something new and greater.

On one occasion, I began to play with a phrase and rather than wait, Lisette began to play with me. A duet ensued. The monks listened and watched. They smiled, nodded, and bowed as we played. This was something many had not seen before, but they were incredibly pleased. I cannot explain our interplay of music. Its flow was spontaneous and from deep inside. We played together with understanding.

We finished playing for the time.

We sat and smiled at one another.

"Thank you, Lisette, you have made the songs so much better." I spoke.

Lisette's response,

"tu es la bienvenue Mon cher (you are very welcome, my dear."

I had learned enough French from Lisette to understand her. She had said "my dear." What did this mean? The words she uses were for close relationships.

Later in the day, I chanced to meet one of the Masters of the retreat. He was a wise man, full of years and wisdom. I explained what had happened and that I was troubled concerning how to react to Lisette's words.

It was his wise reply.

"My son, we have seen this growing for many, many weeks. It comes as no surprise to us. We can tell that your minds and souls are already intertwined. How else could you play so well together? My son, she is your other half. Close the gap that remains and become one."

I met Lisette in the garden later that day. I explained my conversation with the Master to her.

She listened and finally said with a smile,

"It would seem you were the last to know."

"What shall we do about this?" I asked.

"Détends-toi Mon cher, ce sera comme il faut. (Relax, my dear, it will be right.) It was her reply. "Meet me tonight in the steam room and we will continue our conversation"

Lisette kissed me for the first time. I wanted more but had to wait.

Lisette was already in the steam room when I arrived. The room was warm and moist. Jasmine flowers were scattered about, and the smell of the flowers filled the air. A few candles gave the room a bit of illumination. Lisette sat on a wooden bench near the fire pit and the steam. She wore a simple tunic that barely covered her frame.

She did not speak but held both arms out toward me. I walked to her and took her hands in mine.

Lisette spoke softly to me saying,

"As the Master said, we have tasted the soul and mind of one another, and they have become intertwined. Now we shall taste one another in body to complete the circle. Taste me my love."

I leaned to her and kissed her. Lisette pulled me to the bench, and we continued our embrace, softly at first and to explore.

The kiss became more enthusiastic.

"Let us see one another" Lisette suggested.

I stood and removed my clothing. Lisette did likewise. She was beautiful to behold. Her time at the retreat had healed her mind and body. I sat on the bench and Lisette straddled my lap. We returned to our kiss. We began to taste the other parts of one another. Face, ears, necks, shoulders, arms, and chests were all on the menu. As I ran my hands over her body, it was slick with Jasmine oil. The flowery scent filled my head. We continued to kiss and explore, hands moving over the other. The steam caused us to perspire, and our bodies were slick.

My passion began to rise in our embrace.

"Not yet, my love, taste this one last place" Lisette said.

She stood and then lay down on the bench. I went to her waiting legs and began to kiss and explore once more. I tasted Lisette and she began to move and to moan to my touches and kisses. She was sweet to the taste. Lisette began to move faster, and her breath came more quickly. She reached her climax and lay panting.

"I want to taste you now" Lisette whispered.

She stood then kneeled and I sat on the bench. Lisette did for me as I had done for her. Her kisses were soft, and her hands grasped my manhood. I was growing extremely excited, but Lisette stopped and then straddled me once. I placed my arms around her back, and she placed hers around my neck. I entered her and we both moaned at the pleasure it brought. We moved in tandem, just as our duets had been. It was slow going as I was in no hurry to finish. There were many more kisses and much more exploring.

Lisette looked into my eyes and spoke.

"Fill me now, Let go inside me"

I did as she asked. In my older days, I had known many women, but this was new for me. This was not sex, we made love. It was a fulfilling moment. The circle was complete.

The monks were aware of what had happened, and they were happy for us. Lisette and I were inseparable. One morning we received word from one of the brothers that the Master asked to meet us in the garden. She and I walked hand in hand. I was happy for the first time in my life.

"Sit my children" the Master said.

"The brothers and I have spoken of you two in great length. It has been decided that you should leave this place."

My heart sank; I did not want to leave.

The Master saw my face fall but smiled.

"It has been decided, that if you wish, you are to return to the West and recreate what we have here. We will help you and send some of the brothers as assistants. Make a place to heal those that search for it."

I looked into Lisette's eyes and said,

"What do think, my dear?"

Lisette, without hesitation,

"Yes, we can do this."

After a few days, we were ready to go. Our few possessions in backpacks, a Shakuhachi in one hand, our hands joined. We walked out of the retreat for the first time in many months to create a new life together.